


Belore'dorei

by seikaitsukimizu



Series: Anecdotes After Argus [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Demon Hunters, Gen, Original Player Characters, Quel'Danas, Quel'Thalas, Silvermoon City, Sin'dorei, Sunwell, illidari - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 23:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15617130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seikaitsukimizu/pseuds/seikaitsukimizu
Summary: Kohosh Duskburn is burdened with bringing the first sin'dorei illidari back to Silvermoon. Can they find a place for themselves in what was once considered home? Is peace even possible for the illidari with demon souls? Do they have any future among their own?





	Belore'dorei

Despite having witnessed the Nathrazim swallow entire worlds when he devoured the demons’ heart, despite embracing magics and energies that had led his brethren to madness, despite fighting alongside people that had sworn to slay him and his kin only years ago, despite having been to the heart of the Legion’s operations and faced down Kil’jaeden itself; at this very moment in Dalaran the all-consuming thought of Kohosh Duskburn is: _“I am not prepared.”_

He is not the greatest champion of the illidari. They, along with Illidan’s chosen lieutenants are remaining on the Fel Hammer. On Argus, though, he took down countless corrupt Iron Wardens, even fashioned his own warblades from the bulwark arms of the constructs. With them he led an entire contingent of Lightforged into Antorus and fought wave after wave of demons. Of all the contingents, his was the only one to return without one casualty. Wounded, yes, but none of his charges were killed, not when he had the eredar’s own weapons to defend them.

And thanks to his deeds, Kayn Sunfury himself told him to lead this first group back home.

_“We have fulfilled the Master’s plan,” the commander said, second only to the Slayer and Illidan himself. “With the fel-Titan imprisoned, we have an opportunity to strike hundreds, thousands of Legion worlds without any organized retaliation.” The green glow behind the blindfold turned towards the stars just beyond the balcony. “Many of us are staying, but Altruis,” the name hissed, “has left with some of the kaldorei illidari to the Alliance, preferring to protect Azeroth directly now.”_

It was logical, of course. Altruis, for all that he was an extraordinary commander, had not trusted Master Illidan’s plan. Had even defied him by seeking others outside the illidari in their war against the Legion while on Outland. Now they can see that, in some way, that was Illidan’s plan all along. If only he had had faith in the Master his views would’ve been vindicated with the full support of the illidari.

Instead, he had nearly incited a war between them all.

It appeared he was trying to again, except he wasn’t completely at fault this time.

_“He received an invitation from King Anduin through a messenger, that they would be welcome. The Horde has not extended the same invitation.” There was a hint of disgust in the man’s voice. “Despite all our efforts, we are still not trusted. However, during our assault on the Tomb, Lady Liadrin told me all children of Silvermoon are welcome to return home. There are some among us anxious to see our great city once again.”_

It was not a mission he desired. It was one for Kayn himself, or perhaps Belath Dawnblade, one with family still alive.

_“He has chosen to stay by the Slayer’s side. No, as one of our greatest protectors, you will lead this mission. Perhaps the most difficult we have ever faced. To see the city rebuilt, that our traitor Prince kept his word…”_

And so here he is, a dozen sin’dorei illidari with him facing a portal to their ancient home. Dalaran is using the very leylines of the Isles to maintain portals so that everyone returning from Argus, from the war, can go home as quickly as possible. Word has been sent ahead, Kayn told him. They would be met, they would be welcomed and escorted. Even the bulwarks upon his back aren’t giving him comfort; weapons unneeded but after so long to go unarmed was uncomfortable.

He wasn’t the only one, at least. He registered some holding their blades as if readying to go into battle. Others shifting nervously, almost backing away. But they were illidari. They feared nothing. _Nothing._

Thus fortified, he stepped forward and led his people home.

* * *

It was a bittersweet emergence. They were outside the city and he wished he could see the colors of the grand ways, the white marble and red stone, the gold of the flag bearers at the gate not too far from here and the shine of the leaves around him. Instead all he could see was the magic melded into the stone outlining the great wall before him. The motes of arcane energies that kept the trees beautiful year round. The fel energies still radiating around the spires, the ground, the trees.

He saw the necrotic wound that severed part of the wall, the great destruction that carved its way through the city still there, still burning Quel’Thalas. If he could cry he felt he would, instead all he could do was clench his fists and stare impotently, taking it all in and missing its beauty, regret and satisfaction swirling for dominance.

“The humans have a saying, a sight for sore eyes.” The voice was rough but light, as if it was unused to speaking loudly. “I never understood it until I returned after a long campaign. But I suppose it doesn’t quite mean the same for you, given your…” There was a not-quite awkward yet weighted silence to the trail off.

Kohosh turned his attention to the voice. It was a sin’dorei, younger than him, with short hair and fel leaking from his eyes. Not like his, where the fel burned with the heart of the demon within, but like all sin’dorei, their fel addiction in their eyes simply there. His armor was unfamiliar, something that displayed wingless dragons on his chest and an obvious blade on his belt. On his back was some sort of fractured crystal bow, looking similar to some draenei weapons he’d seen before, and resting against his leg was a quiver filled with arrows.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about their escort being armed, though that the weapon was not drawn was a good sign. The armor made him feel slightly underdressed, but he had been that way since taking the the heart of the Nathrazim. The fel energies had hardened his skin, giving his skin a rock-like texture that spread from his shoulders down his arms in addition to the two horns that seemed to curl around his ears. As a result he had forgone wearing armor above the waist. The demon scales were hardy enough, he’d learned.

He had some fancy purple leather trousers bought from Dalaran, but standing before his former home city, he felt just a touch of shame. He never would’ve walked Silvermoon so disrobed before. And he knew he wasn’t the only one facing that. Half of them had found armor more a hindrance than anything else when they had tattooed wards and demonic resilience protecting them.  

“Forgive me,” the man finally said. “I told them I wouldn’t be a good choice for ambassador. But when Brightwing gets an idea in his head…” He cleared his throat. “Vereth Nightfold, Sunsworn Ranger.”

“Kohosh Duskburn, illidari, and former Sunfury.”

A strange smile flashed across the ranger’s face. “Not the first time we’ve welcomed the Sunfury home.” He tilted his head towards gate. “Ready to see the city again?”

 _No_ , whispered a part of Kohosh’s mind. “Please lead the way.”

The ranger turned with a low whistle. From the nearby bushes a wolf emerged, and Kohosh felt his eyebrows nearly hit his horns. The wolf was suffused with fel energy. It didn’t act like a fel creature, didn’t even register as a demon. As it circled behind the other illidari--herding them, he realized--he couldn’t help but remark, “I’ve never seen such a creature.”

“Not as rare as you’d think,” the ranger responded. “Not too long ago I was part of a campaign to Draenor, before it was Outland. The Sunsworn had many tasks, but taming the beasts corrupted by the Legion to turn them against their former masters became a point of pride for some of us.”

He had so many questions to that. How could there be a campaign on a destroyed world? Why had the sin’dorei been there? What were the Legion’s plans? Instead all he could muster was a, “We are not so different then.”

A smirk was thrown over the man’s shoulder. “Probably Brightwing’s thinking as well.”

The name was familiar, it took Kohosh a minute to remember Halduran Brightwing, a close ally of Lor’themar and a Farstrider. “That’s twice you’ve mentioned-”

“Halduran Brightwing, Ranger General, Farstrider leader, and military head of the city.”

“He’s...moved up.”

“None of the Windrunners remain in the city. He had the skills, the respect.”

“You don’t speak of him as such.”

“Perks of being a nephew. Adopted,” he added, “after...well, after.” He stopped walking and waved his arm upwards. “The Shepherd’s Gate. Enter and be welcomed home, sin’dorei.”

Kohosh followed his gaze. “That...you have a statue of the traitor Prince?”

“He was the last of the Sunstrider dynasty.” Vereth looked up as well. “He’s an example of how even the greatest of us can fall.”

“So you have him overlooking the entrance?”

Another shrug. “He was also buried with his family.” The outrage must have shown on his face because the ranger put up his hands. “It was argued that even fallen royalty deserve the respect of our people.”

“He would have led us into the hands of the Legion!”

“We also would’ve perished without his help before his betrayal.”

Kohosh couldn’t argue with that. He glanced once more at the face of his fallen Prince. A man he had once followed, who had led him to Illidan and his current path. “He does not deserve a statue.”

“It’s in discussion to remove them. The problem,” Vereth looked towards the the West, “is that so much more must be rebuilt. So where do you put your energies?”

Kohosh grimaced and walked through the Gate, hearing the illidari behind him gasp and hiss and even spit on the image of their former Prince. Once through, he had to stop and take it in. The Walk of the Elders. Unblemished. Unscarred. It looked practically pristine, with arcane energies woven in and around the very structures and the flags wafting in non-existant breezes.

Most importantly, though, were the people. So many people. Sin’dorei walking, laughing, trading, talking. Not as many as there were, but more than he had seen since...since leaving the Prince’s side. There were guards here and there, and a handful of Forsaken, but it was...vibrant. Alive.

“Breathtaking is another term humans use,” Vereth commented casually.

“That one I understand,” Kohosh replied. “It’s...it’s as if nothing happened.”

“The Prince’s arcanists were quite thorough. With the energies provided by the fel and Netherstorm they were able to rebuild this entire section of the city.”

He could see it, a thin veil of the fel swept up in all the auras. That wasn’t the dominant energy, though. It was an arcane aura, one that was familiar. “Even with the fel, it’s almost…almost like it was with the Sunwell. With that energy suffusing every aspect. I’m amazed they could recreate it.”

When he finally turned his attention towards Vereth, he registered an unusual look upon his features, as if the man were both confused and surprised. “Yes,” Vereth answered slowly, “quite amazing.” He cleared his throat. “If you’ll come this way, we’ve set up some temporary rooms along the Royal Exchange.”

“The Royal Exchange?”

“It was that or Murder Row. I thought you might like some space from the warlocks.”

Kohosh wrinkled his nose. “Yes, please. They continue to study us, or try and enslave us.”

“They’ve been warned to be on their best behavior. If they don’t, though, feel free to treat them as Calu did.”

“Calu…?”

Vereth tilted his head back, towards the strange fel wolf. “Warlock tried to tame him when I first came back. After losing a hand none of the others tried again.”

“I’m sure it won’t come down to that.” And he’d remind the illidari that, warlock or no, they were not to attack anyone. He didn’t know just how far Lor’themar’s tolerance of them would go. “Are we confined to the Royal Exchange?’

“Of course not. You’re free to roam the city. I’ve got a handful of Farstrider squires who can help with locating family, supplies, or answer questions.” Vereth led them down the long idyllic pathway through another passageway dominated by the statue of Kael’thas. “How much,” he started quietly, cleared his throat, then, pausing his stride, continued, “how much have you learned of what happened since you left?”

“Not nearly as much as we’d like. That there are Death Knights of the Lich King serving as allies and that the Forsaken are not...not enemies despite their appearance. Those were shocking enough. We’ve had little time to learn of other events, though.”

Vereth crossed his arms and looked to the ground. Something seemed to be bothering him. He started walking again, and Kohosh followed, making sure the illidari stayed close. “Wait here,” he finally said, then approached a small group of, even Kohosh could recognize, squires.

Glancing around, he took in the fountains that were pale imitations of the ones he’d seen briefly in Suramar, the vivacious energies for the flora and arcane auras that kept them viable year-round. There were even small creatures, rabbits and squirrels, being half-chased by enchanted brooms. It was...tranquil. Quiet.

Still too few sin’dorei, but home. A strange sense of contentment he hadn’t even realized he had missed settled, just briefly, within him. It didn’t last. The demon heart would never let such feelings exist. He could feel it rage, throwing out memories of the pain he felt as anguished, terrified screams tore through the air, of the Scourge advancing and Silvermoon falling-

The fel in his eyes flared and a snarl made its way to his lips, the only outward signs as he suppressed and regained control of the demon voice within. It appeared not even home would bring a sense of peace. They would always be fighting. And if he was struggling, he knew his brothers and sisters were as well.

Perhaps this had been a bad idea.

Perhaps they never could come home.

Vereth interrupted his thoughts. “Kohosh, if you would come with me to the front gate, I need to take you somewhere. The rest of your companions can settle in.”

Given what had just transpired, he was hesitant. “I should remain with them. There are...we need to speak regarding some issues.”

He could see the ranger study him, for what he wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, he finally nodded. “Meet me out front in one hour, then. It’s rather urgent.”

An hour. He could settle his people in an hour. “Very well.”

Vereth waved at the large curtained archways. “The Hall of Respite is for you and yours during your stay.”

Kohosh offered a pained smile in thanks and guided his people in. Some had their tattoos glowing, some were clutching their eyes, some had their weapons out and ready to strike.

Yes, coming home was foolish. Their inner demons would bring them nothing but pain here.

* * *

It was just past the sun’s zenith when Kohosh joined Vereth at the Shepherd’s Gate. The man was mounted on a hawkstrider, beside him was a second mount. At Kohosh’s appearance, Vereth offered up the reins. “I hope you remember how.”

“I remember them being far too garish in color for my liking.”

A snort of a laugh. “That hasn’t changed.”

It took him two tries to mount, forgetting that the wings were at the side and not behind the seat. It had been ages since he’d ridden anything but a felbat. “They’re about as comfortable as I remember.”

“It’s better if they’re running.” Then with a click he was off, Calu easily running at his side, and Kohosh could only nudge his own mount into racing behind the ranger. It was a brief jaunt, up the side of the hill nestled against Silvermoon and back down past some arcanist towers towards a harbor. The harbor of Silvermoon was small, definitely unable to handle the great warships of the sin’dorei. And yet, beyond the shallow moorings and stone piers were just that. A small fleet of warships.

Vereth had stopped at one of the piers and was dismounting. Kohosh rode up next to him, but turned around. The great wall of Silvermoon rose above the hillside. Intact. Solid. A monument to their people’s accomplishments. “From here, it looks as if nothing had happened.”

“Deceitfully true, sadly.” He was further along the pier and stepping onto the deck of a small boat. It was different, with plush seats and a sail inlaid with gold. “But far too much has happened for any of us to forget.”

“I suppose so.” Kohosh glanced at the seats, then at his weapons. He was hesitant to remove them, but would be uncomfortable sitting with them on his back. He noted Vereth had a similar problem with his bow and had not taken a seat, but was looking out towards the ocean. Kohosh decided to join him just as the boat began to move. No captain, no steering. Just magic.

It must be quite the special boat then, to have such an enchantment upon it.

As if reading his mind, the ranger said, “It’s for pilgrims who are going to Quel’Danas.”

Kohosh’s head snapped towards Vereth. “I cannot set foot there!”

“All children of Silvermoon are welcome.”

“I’m a creature of the fel-”

“Nothing worse than what’s already trodden there, I assure you.”

“Nothing-” He stopped, swallowed. “The Legion has set foot there?” On their most sacred Isle? First the Scourge then the Legion? Was there even anything left standing?

Vereth gazed at the ocean a moment longer, then turned his attention to the illidari. “You’ve missed a lot on Outland and in prison. There is,” he took a deep breath, “there’s a lot you must tell your brothers and sisters.”

“Such as?”

“You mentioned the Forsaken and the Death Knights. They’re free because the Lich King is dead.”

Kohosh sucked in a breath. “Dead?”

“They freed themselves of his control earlier than that, but without their help, we never would’ve brought Arthas to justice.” Vereth let out a sigh. “All that remains now is the Scar, and the necrotic powers he’s saturated the Ghostlands with.”

It was...it was good news, but it was a diversion. A brief diversion but already the docks of Quel’Danas were visible. “Did he strike against the remains of the Sunwell? Is that how demons walked the holy isle?”

Vereth met his eyes briefly, then turned back towards the waters, resting his palms on the railing. “No. The campaign against the Lich King was after. It was...painful for our people. Long and arduous and not something we should’ve faced. But...we serve the Horde.” His grin was almost snide. “Especially when threatened.”

Kohosh bristled at the implication, but it wasn’t an answer. “So what happened here?”

Vereth didn’t answer, instead waiting as the boat slowed down and glided into a dock. He stepped out of the boat without comment. The fel wolf jumped out and sat beside its master. Both looked back, waiting on the illidari.

Kohosh hesitated. This was holy ground, even with the Sunwell destroyed. But he could see the fel radiating from the ground. There were arcane energies slowly desaturating the area, but it was taking time. Years. Vereth was right. His setting foot would be nothing compared to whatever happened here.

Hesitantly, he stepped off the boat and looked around. He recognized Sun’s Reach, had spent many a day here back before the Scourge marched upon them. There were signs of draenei weapons and armor, but otherwise it appeared to be populated by Blood Knights and a few civilians. Inside the nearest building was a translocator orb. A temporary one, easily dismantled.

Vereth led him instead that building. The Blood Knight guards remained outside and despite the light day, there was a quiet darkness around the orb. “What happened,” he asked again.

“Once Illidan was defeated in Outland and you were imprisoned, the Prince’s betrayal became apparent. We defeated him in Tempest Keep, but he had another plan. He stormed the city with his personal guard and allowed demons to invade Quel’Danas.”

Koshosh let out a pained grunt, his hands clenched into fists. He knew his Prince was a traitor, they all did, but to hear he had brought demons to this sacred place… “Why,” he croaked out.

“He’d found a way to use the energy from Netherstorm and some...local elements to recreate the Sunwell as a doorway for the Legion. Kil’jaeden himself almost came through.”

This time he couldn’t help it and he punched the nearest wall. His fist went right through it and he winced at the damage. Vereth didn’t flinch, just shrugged. His pet was less forgiving, giving him a soft warning growl that didn’t stop until Vereth stroked its head. “Sorry,” he admitted.

“The arcanists will fix it.” Vereth tilted his head towards the door. “He failed, obviously. We had help from the Aldor Draenei, defeated the demons, ended the Prince and closed the portal.” He paused then. “Did you know that the Prince had sent back a naaru to us?”

“Yes. Before my...assignment to Illidan, I had been part of the team to help capture it.”

“Well, he captured it back. By the end of the fighting, all that was left was the heart of the naaru. The Prophet Velen had come to try and lend aid in the battle and maybe purify some of the demon energies.”

“Is that why the fel is not so prevalent today?”

A brief hesitation. “Not quite.” He reached down to touch Calu, and then touched the translocator orb, vanishing in an eruption of light.

Kohosh hesitated, but wherever this orb would lead was important enough for Vereth to drag him from his people. He rested his palm upon the orb and felt the surge of arcane energies draw up and around him, only to drag him across space and time. Before he’d become an illidari he’d never noticed the intensity of translocator orbs. This one especially seemed to have power behind it.

He reappeared in a dark, curtained room. They were on a ramp walkway, and just around the bend was a light source bright enough to penetrate the dark atmosphere.

Vereth was in front of him and began to walk backwards. “You see, with the heart of a naaru and the last lingering essences of the original Sunwell, the Prophet was able to do more than just purify the land.” He stopped at the bend and waited.

It...it couldn’t be. Kohosh took one careful step after the other, disbelieving at what Vereth was implying but...but the aura, the _energies_ he was seeing...it could only be--

It _was._ The energy emerging from the pool was blinding, arcane and holy light united in a display of power so great that it drove him a knee, eyes squinting as his demon sight tried to compensate for brightness akin to the sun.

“He reignited it,” Vereth said reverently. “You said it was like the Sunwell’s energies were saturating Silvermoon. It’s because-”

“How did--why--no one said-”

“I gathered from your commentary. That’s why I wanted you to come. To see.”

He remained kneeling, then jerked back to his feet, looking away. “No! No, I cannot be-”

“You are no more fel saturated than the warlocks in the city, than Calu right here.” The fel wolf was lying on the ground, seemingly mesmerized by the simmering energies of the Sunwell.

“I have a demon within me,” he hissed. “I defile this place-”

“You are a child of Silvermoon. You are sin’dorei.” Vereth placed a firm grip on Kohosh’s wrist. “You wanted to come home. _This,_ ” he pointed to the font of energy, “is part of our home. Part of _your_ home.”

“I could corrupt this place!”

“The fel has no power here. I’ve heard of warlocks summoning infernals for experiments in purifying them. The Sunwell is stronger than that.”

In his heart the nathrezim he defeated whispered that it was _lies._ _Nothing_ was stronger than the fel. Being here would corrupt the sin’dorei. Being here would bring the Legion _home._ Every word burrowing into his brain telling him he needed to get out of here.

He wanted to flee.

He wanted to touch the Sunwell again.

He looked to Vereth, who met his gaze. “Embrace it.”

“I could destroy it.”

“You’ll die before you do.”

And looking around Kohosh realized it wasn’t an idle threat. There were Blood Knights. There were Spellbreakers. The elite forces of Silvermoon protecting their greatest treasure. And Vereth himself, a veteran of two campaigns, at least one of which was against the Legion.

The tactical part of his mind calculated he could end them in minutes. It would be a brief victory. They would kill him before he could land the final blow. These were not the endless demons he had faced. These were sin’dorei guarding their home.

A far more dangerous enemy.

Except they weren’t the enemy, they were his people.

A people that didn’t fear him, didn’t fear his presence at this place.

He straightened his shoulders.

Illidari fear _nothing._

He took one step, then two, by the third Vereth had dropped his wrist and in another moment he stood before the Sunwell, in energies still blinding, its power licking and burning against his skin. Arcane energies he was used to, but the Light, the Light always hurt.

And the demon within him was no longer so smug. There was something there, almost...almost like fear.

Why did the demon fear the Sunwell?

Vereth’s words brought him out of himself. “You can draw upon it. The Sunwell isn’t sentient, but…”

“But it’s energies feel like home,” he finished. He’d once drawn upon the energies so easily. Not as regularly or greedily as the Prince or some of the nobles, but it was as fundamental a part of _home_ as Silvermoon was. It would hurt, he thought, but just a touch, a single moment…

He drew just a drop of the arcane well’s energies into himself.

And screamed.

It more than burned. His tattoos, the arcane cage that helped keep his demon side under control, were lit like purple fire. He felt himself transform, the grand spikes growing from his back and great claws from his hands and feet. His scream became a roar as he collapsed before the Sunwell, its energies washing through him like acid and _hope_ and wringing him out until at last his voice left him and the fel energies of his demonic form burned away not in green light, but with a golden hue.

He was himself again.

He shuddered and gasped for breath.

None of his limbs would obey him.

And yet, when Vereth picked up his arm and one of the Spellbreakers lifted his other he begged, “No, no-”

“We’re just taking you to a bench,” Vereth soothed. “You’re not the first to be...overwhelmed by its power.”

Overwhelmed. Yes, that was it. It hadn’t tried to purify him, but the energy was _alien_ and _familiar_ with that touch of _home_ he had been longing for beneath all the pain and anguish. He didn’t know how long he lay on the bench, shivering and panting, gaze locked to the Sunwell, but eventually he was able to push himself upright. A Blood Knight brought him his warden’s arms--they must have fallen off in the transformation--and he held onto them like an anchor, reorienting himself to reality.

It was, he mused, not unlike his demonic awakening.

He waited for the whispers, for that nathrezim voice to hiss and mock and taunt. For the countless worlds to traipse across his vision again and haunt his dreams. And it was there, the heart of the demon, but the voice, the voice was silent.

No, not silent, _silenced._

He glanced down to his chest, to his tattoos. They were still purple, but with his sight he could see that the wards were stronger, _better_ , as if reinforced by the power of the Sunwell. Not just arcane energy, but energy from the Light. He shut his eyes and searched for the fel heart, the part of his soul merged with the demon. It was there, but the Light had been seared in.

The Sunwell had _silenced_ his demon heart.

He shook again, for entirely different reasons. This...this could be a whole new beginning for his people. Still infused with fel, still tortured by what they’d become, but with the Sunwell...they _could_ come home and escape some of that torment!

His head jerked towards Vereth, who had taken a seat on the floor to stroke the fel wolf. It was as docile as a pet, not the feral, empowered creature it was. And Kohosh realized it wasn’t just the ranger’s training, it must be the proximity. The Sunwell had been diffusing the fel energies from the land, from the city for _years._

The demon heart might recover, might heal enough to whisper again, but if they stayed close to the Sunwell, if they protected it, then when their long crusade was finally over, when the Legion was nothing but ash and legend...there was hope.

“The garrison,” he spoke, voice cracked and raw. He cleared his throat. “Magister’s Terrace. Is it...in use?”

Vereth glanced at the guards around them. “No. That’s where Kael’thas made his final stand. It’s...reserved for the rulers of Silvermoon, but the rooms surrounding the Observation grounds are free.”

Still shaking somewhat, Kohosh stood. “Then that is where we will make our home.”

Vereth’s brow furrowed. “I don’t-”

“We have sacrificed everything to protect Azeroth and defeat the Legion. Those of us who are...who need to come home need a place. Silvermoon isn’t that place for us, not yet. But the Sunwell,” he looked towards its radiance again, “the Sunwell is something that needs guardianship by the best of us.” He looked towards the Blood Knights and Spellbreakers. “The sin’dorei illidari will defend this Isle with you.”

“I didn’t exactly bring you here for-”

“No,” Kohosh agreed, “you didn’t. But Silvermoon was...there was danger there, not from you, but from us, from within.” He held a hand against his breast. “The demons won’t be silenced...except by what lies here.”

Vereth’s eyes brightened. “The Sunwell cures you of the fel?”

“It helps silence the demon voice. This...this is a treasure and a weapon we cannot let fall. Not to the Scourge or the Legion or...or even the Alliance or Horde. This, this place must be protected. And illidari _will_ protect it. No matter the cost.”

Vereth cleared his throat. “Obviously I’ll have to clear this with Brightwing, and the Regent Lord.” He glanced down to his pet, then stood up, brushing non-existent dust from his armor. “But to have the strength of the illidari, those that fought the countless Legion and won, protecting the Sunwell...I can’t see that they’d object.”

Kohosh bowed his head. “Thank you, for bringing me here.”

“All children of Silvermoon have the right.”

“Maybe.” But how many, Kohosh silently asked, could discover a future?

How many, he wondered as they teleported away, found themselves a new home.


End file.
